Coffee, Work, Regrets and Forgivness
by AThousandWordsMore
Summary: Having his best buddy die for him was the worst thing Alfred ever had to go through. Would he ever get over it? Human names are used. Rated T for mild swearing and name calling. One-shot.


**A/N: This is a small collaboration piece with two of my friends. One of them gave the overall idea, and another helped me check my Grammar and stuff since because I am a dumb thingy when it comes to that(English is not my mother tongue haha). Anyways, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! Do give a review if possible so that I can improve c:**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**

It had been months. Maybe months or maybe weeks or maybe just days. But hell, it didn't really matter to him. To Alfred, it was all the same. It could have been years or centuries. Whatever. He stared at the huge stacks of paper in front of him. Well, not exactly just in front of him. Surrounding him. His desk was littered with so many documents, all that was left was only a small little space for him to work. Alfred buried his face in his hands, pressing his cold, shaky hands against his aching eyes. The incident from back then was still fresh in his mind even though he could not even remember what document he has just gone through. He seized the cup of coffee in front of him, so roughly that some of the lukewarm liquid splashed out of it, and took a huge gulp. The fifth cup of coffee so far that day. 

Screw that rainy day back then. The day when Arthur left him alone in the cruel world of the living. It was never Arthur's fault though. It was all his. Maybe if Alfred had listened to Arthur and slowed down the car just a little more. Maybe if he had agreed to put on the safety belt. Then maybe, MAYBE, Arthur Kirkland, his best buddy ever since they were 2, will still be with him. He would not have to save Alfred from crashing out of the window by flinging himself in front of the American. He would not have gotten stuck in the mashed up car with so much blood and heat while Alfred got away almost unscathed. He wouldn't have to die so fast and so damn young. And Alfred would not have to hear his voice cracking with pain or see those beautiful emerald eyes cloud with sadness and regret for the last time barely halfway into his adult life. What does Arthur have to feel regretful about anyway?! But damn it. Those thoughts wouldn't help to bring Arthur back. The 'maybe's are just going to stay as 'maybe's. There was nothing he could do. What's done cannot be undone. The dead can't come back to life. 

Alfred banged his fist on the table, causing the stacks of papers to cave in onto each other. All those thoughts crowding his mind were all full of poison and taunting. He straightened up, grabbed a random document and began to work on it furiously, even though it had already been completed. Taking another gulp from the coffee in the mug that had miraculously survived the impact his fist made on the table, he put his entire mind into writing and thinking, doing his best to push the accursed thoughts out of his mind by stuffing it with work instead. Even though he knew that it'll be just temporary, forgetting the pain for even a little while would be bliss to his tortured mind. From somewhere in the surrounding air, Alfred could have sworn that he heard the ghostly whisper of Arthur's voice, blaming him, blaming him... 

A few hours later, Alfred straightened up, his back feeling horribly stiff from the hunched over position he'd been in. Stretching, he yawned, took a sip of the little bit of coffee left which had long gone cold and glanced at the clock. With a mild degree of shock, he realized that he'd been working for 12 hours straight without even knowing. Surprisingly, fatigue hadn't seemed to have found him yet. He was just stiff with a few cramps here and there. Alfred stood up and stretched slowly, listening to how his joints popped as he twisted his stiff bones around. Then suddenly, he froze. 

There was a figure at his opened window with a painful familiarity to the man's face. 

"Arthur...?" Alfred whispered in disbelief. "What are you doing at my window? Aren't you...gone already?" he asked, choking out the last two words with difficulty. He stared at the man who looked so much like Arthur. Those shining emerald eyes, thick brows and that gentle smirk tugging at his lips... It reminded the American so much of the English gentleman that it hurt. 

Alfred shakily took a step forward and stretched his hand towards the person, mouth agape and tears already clouding his eyes and flowing down his face in a steady flow. 

"A...Arthur... I... Is that you? Is that really you...?" Alfred's voice was cracking and shaking with uncontrollable sobs that escaped from his cracked lips. 

"Arthur... I... I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry... If only I had listened... You would still be here with me... We would still be spending time together, playing and having fun together... I miss you Arthur... I'm so sorry... Arthur... Please forgive me... Please..." Alfred's legs could support him no more and he collapsed on the floor, fresh waves of grief hitting him so hard he could feel his heart break all over again. The images of that day came flooding back into him, the fading light in those emerald eyes, the weak dying breath of his friend in his arms, life's blood ebbing away, the fiery pain burning his heart and skin, the screaming, the sirens and the coldness from a body voided of life... 

The Arthur-like person in front of him smiled, a small sad smile. Alfred saw his mouth open but he couldn't hear any words that the person was saying. Just then, Alfred's vision started to fade as the fatigue of overworking and grieving finally caught up to him. He tried desperately to keep his eyes open but he was in no condition for such a fight. The darkness started eating his vision away slowly and the last thing he saw was the person's smile that brought back so much pain and nostalgia before he disappeared into the night behind the window... 

Weeks passed by with Arthur's constant appearance almost twice a day in front of Alfred. It was not long before Alfred became a complete shadow of his former self. His bright blue eyes had faded to a dull shade and had gone bloodshot from the lack of sleep. The spring he used to have in his step disappeared and now he dragged himself around the place. He still went to work everyday, believing that work could allow him to forget the past. His intake of coffee also increased, for it was the only thing keeping him alive, or so he felt. 

After an especially tiring day, Alfred barely made it through the door without falling on his face. He shakily moved over to the kitchen to make himself another cup of coffee. How many mugs had he downed over the past few weeks? Probably 9 in a day? It didn't really matter. Alfred gulped down the scalding liquid and turned around to dump more sugar into the bitter drink before he saw Arthur yet again. This time sitting on his favorite chair across the table. Alfred could never bring himself to actually move the chair away for some reasons unknown even to himself and would always picture Arthur sitting there again, drinking tea and eating scones. Now, it almost really did come true. Alfred sighed, exhaustion evident in his voice and he sat down across to the man. He had things to say. Even though this might just be his imagination, he wanted to get everything off his chest and since he was rather awake that day for some reason, he wanted to get it over with. 

"Arthur," he started, turning to look at the Arthur-like person sitting across the table. "Arthur. Why are you still here? It is not like I want you to go but... Argh nevermind." Alfred frowned at himself. 

The person gave no reply and just continued to stare. The silence followed for a few seconds and the air hung heavy with all the unanswered questions Alfred could possibly have. Alfred closed his bloodshot eyes and leaned back on his chair. 

"Hey Arthur. Do you still remember that time when I tried to shave your eyebrows while you were asleep?" Alfred forced a chuckle out of his dry lips. 

"You ignored me for two weeks straight after that. And that time when I put salt into your tea. I still can remember how you screamed at me for that. That was so not gentlemanly, don't you think? Oh and all the times when you would tell me off for eating way too much junk food for my own good. Did you ever knew that I have a secret place to put it underneath my bed? I think if you known, you would have thrown me out of the house already..." Alfred's voice trailed off, a little shaky now. 

"You know... All of your little magical friends... They all miss you so much... They are still wondering around your room everyday, wondering where have you've gone to... They all look so sad you know..." Alfred curled his hand into a fist and bit his lip. A small trickle of tears ran down his face and he paused to wipe away the stinging water from his eyes. The person across the table moved, much to Alfred's surprise. He lowered his head and avoided Alfred's eyes for the first time ever since he appeared. Alfred tried putting his arm around the person's shoulder like how he normally would when he felt Arthur needed comforting, but his hand just went through the person's shoulder and caught the air. He let it fall limply onto the wooden table with a thud. The person did not move.  
>"Arthur... Listen... I'm really really sorry for what happened... I took away your life and your right to live. You exchanged your life to save mine... Thank you but... but...I want you to be with me..." Alfred closed his eyes and turned away, tears leaking out of his eyelids like little streams now. <p>

"Arthur... Why did you leave...? Why did you leave and left me behind...?"

.

"...Live..." 

"Huh?" The American looked up, surprised to hear a voice in the room when he was the only living, breathing creature in there. 

"...Alfred...Live for me..." The faint voice continued, growing stronger. Alfred looked up in disbelief at the person in front of him. Is... Is that really Arthur? 

"I did not save your ass just so that you can mope around you git. Now get your ass up and live that life I have saved for you. Move!" The familiar voice of the Englishman brought light into the eyes of Alfred for the first time in a long time. The person across the table, who was most definitely Arthur now, crossed his arms and stared at Alfred with that usual disapproving look he always had on his face. 

"Arthur! You're back!" The delighted American exclaimed, standing up so fast he knocked over his chair in a hurry. 

"No way. I am just here because you are wasting away here, you arse. Who said you need to be sorry? I saved you because I wanted to and I definitely did not save you to watch you waste away like this!" 

"I'm sorry..." 

"No more of your apologies! I just need you to get up and live on you hear me!" 

Alfred could not help but smile. These kinds of quarrels that he had so often taken for granted... It was definitely a great thing that he could kind of enjoy this again... 

-Months later-  
>Alfred was finally getting his life back on track again. He stopped the insane intake of coffee and he sorted out his life that he had messed up so badly for such a long period of time. Arthur still appeared beside him from time to time to nag at his friend. But Alfred noticed that he had started to fade and as time passes by, he had faded to almost nothing but a shadow. Then came the day, when Arthur told him he would be moving on. It was sad but Alfred took the news way better than he expected himself to for he knew that Arthur will always be watching over him from the Heavens above. <p>

"I will always remember you my friend. Till we meet again... Thank you."


End file.
